


Suspicious Packages

by LogicGunn



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: BAMF Rodney, Bomb scare, Humour, Hurt John, M/M, Rodney earns the respect of the military, Suspicious Package
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicGunn/pseuds/LogicGunn
Summary: Rodney takes one long, hard look at the large, brown box sitting innocuously on his desk, then backs up out of his office into the main lab.“Everybody evacuate! This is not a drill people! Move, move, move!” He reaches up and activates his radio. “This is Doctor McKay. I need the bomb disposal squad in my office immediately.”
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Comments: 25
Kudos: 184





	Suspicious Packages

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the wonderful [BunnyBopper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyBopper/pseuds/BunnyBopper) for the title cause I was stumped.

Rodney takes one long, hard look at the large, brown box sitting innocuously on his desk, then backs up out of his office into the main lab. 

“Everybody evacuate! This is not a drill people! Move, move, move!” He reaches up and activates his radio. “This is Doctor McKay. I need the bomb disposal squad in my office immediately.” 

At the word bomb, all the scientists that had been slow to react to his directions start to run out the nearest door. Only Radek lingers behind, hitting the lab shutdown switch on the back wall. Rodney watches as everything in the room turns dark, then he grabs the one thing that has the potential to make an untimely explosion worse: the Naquadah laced device of unknown function that could enhance a room-destroying explosion (and, please God, if it’s a bomb make it low grade) and turn it into a city-destroying one. 

When Rodney gets close enough, Radek grabs him by the wrist and pulls him out of the lab and into the corridor, which Rodney is relieved to see is empty; everyone has not just evacuated the lab, but the entire floor as well. They meet Cadman and her team by the stairs, protocol being that the transporters are kept clear in an emergency situation. 

“What have we got, Rodney?” asks Cadman, so small in her containment suit but projecting an air of calm confidence in the face of explosive danger. 

“Brown cardboard box. Forty-five centimetres squared. On my desk in my office.” 

“Anything interesting about it? Ticking, sloshing, wires, stains...” 

“Nothing I could see or hear.” 

“Alright. You guys clear the floor. We’ll take a look.” 

Rodney and Radek press themselves against the wall of the corridor as the squad rushes past, lingering only long enough to see them slip into the lab before turning and climbing the stairs to the gate room. 

“What’s going on, Rodney?” asks Elizabeth, jogging down the control room steps to meet them. 

“A suspicious box appeared in my office,” says Rodney, handing the Naquadah device over to Miko and shooing her away with rapid hand motions. “Cadman and her team are assessing it now, but-” 

A commotion out in the corridor catches everyone’s attention, and John stumbles in through the door with an irate and increasingly babbling Carson tailing him, insisting that the Colonel returns to his bed immediately. 

“Report!” snaps John, brushing Carson off and limping over to Rodney, his arm presed protectively over his stomach. 

“Suspicious box,” repeats Rodney, reaching out to help John. “Cadman’s on it.” 

John’s skin is paper white, his usual sunkissed glow unable to shine through after three days in a coma with an infected gut wound from flying shrapnel. Rodney snakes an arm around John’s waist and John lets him partially take his weight, having visibly exhausted himself with his brisk walk from the infirmary. 

“When did it appear?” asks John, leaning further into Rodney’s embrace. 

“Some time in the three minutes it took me to take a leak,” replies Rodney, stretching his sleeve out over his free hand and wiping the cold sweat off John’s forehead. It’s very telling that John doesn’t brush him off. 

“Genii?” 

“How could it be?” asks Elizabeth. “All life-signs in the city have been accounted for several times.” 

“We need to check the security feed,” says John, and Rodney chastises himself for not thinking of that sooner. 

“I’m on it,” yells Chuck from up in the control room, already having pulled up the feed from the lab onto the main viewer. It’s not as simple as rewinding the video, nothing the Ancients made is that straightforward, so Rodney doesn't head up to watch over his shoulder, knowing that it will be a while before Chuck has anything. 

Elizabeth turns back to Rodney and John. “How serious is the threat, gentlemen?” 

John licks his cracked lips and shifts his weight to the other foot. “Only Rodney can answer that.” 

Rodney hesitates for just a moment, before saying, “I think we should evacuate.” 

Elizabeth nods and activates her radio. “This is Doctor Weir. We are evacuating the city. Everyone head to your designated-” 

_"False alarm,”_ comes Cadman’s voice over the city-wide intercom. 

John peels Rodney’s radio off his ear and holds it up to his mouth. “Are you sure, Lieutenant?” 

_“Yessir.”_

“Alright, everyone,” says Elizabeth, her body relaxing. “False alarm. You can go back to whatever it is you were doing.” 

Rodney doesn’t watch the gate room empty out, he only has eyes for John and his waning strength. “Let’s get you back to the infirmary,” he says, and John's so exhausted that he can only nod, closing his eyes and letting Rodney and Carson swing his arms over their shoulders and help him back to bed. 

* * *

They didn’t see the explosion coming. Ladon Radim and his entourage had visited earlier in the day as part of their ongoing peace treaty, bringing with them tokens of friendship and encouraging smiles. Rodney was the only voice of reason in a room full of politicians, upsetting the polite decorum with an insistence that everything they brought from the Genii homeworld be checked for radiation, including the visitors. 

“We are a lot more cautious with our nuclear research, Doctor McKay,” said Radim. “Thanks to your instruction our people are no longer exposed to radiation on a daily basis.” 

Nevertheless, he agreed to Rodney’s request and they all underwent a basic radiation check by a marine with a particle detector. In hindsight, Rodney wishes he’d had them pass through a metal detector as well. 

An hour after the delegation left, a bomb exploded in the gym. By the time Rodney arrived, the fire was out of control. Marines were desperately trying to douse the flames with IOA approved extinguishers and Carson was treating Teyla in the corridor for smoke inhalation. 

“John is still in there,” wheezed Teyla. 

Rodney took one look at the roaring flames blocking the way, another at the life signs detector in his hand – a single intermittent blue blip in the far corner – and in a moment of stress-induced clarity he pulled a handgun out of the nearest marine’s holster and shot a bullet into one of the water pipes above the gym door. In seconds the flames were doused and a path was cleared into the smoky room. Before anyone else had a chance to move, Rodney ducked down low and ran through the stream of water and over to the corner where John was lying unconscious under some rubble, flames licking his boots. It was a matter of leverage to uncover him, mere seconds to hoist him over a shoulder, then Rodney was rushing out of the room and into the waiting hands of the medics while the marines doubled down on their firefighting. 

John’s injuries included a deep gut wound that inevitably led to sepsis, but he was sure to make a full recovery and above all, he was still alive. 

* * *

Once John’s settled back in bed, pillows plumped up and IVs reinserted, Rodney heads back to the lab. The offending box is still sitting on his desk, big and bulky and brown and totally unexpected. Rodney takes a quick peek under the flaps, raises an eyebrow at the bizarre and seemingly random and unrelated contents, then picks it up and takes it back to the infirmary with him, noting for the first time that his name is written on the top in big, blocky letters. 

John raises an eyebrow when Rodney drops the box at the end of his bed. “Is this the cause of today’s little crisis?” he asks. 

“Mmmm hmmm,” says Rodney. 

“Well don’t keep us in suspense, buddy. What’s in it?” 

Rodney opens the box and pulls out the inch-thick bundle of magazines from the top. 

“Uh...” he says, intelligently, flicking through the pages of the top magazine and noting that some of them are stuck together. 

“What is it?” 

Rodney passes the stack over to John and reaches quickly for the dispenser on the table next to them, covering his hands in several pumps of alcohol gel and rubbing it in furiously. 

“Huh,” says John, dropping the magazines one by one onto his knees, cover after cover of fake tits and even faker smiles. He pauses halfway down the pile. “Well, at least they covered all bases.” 

“What?” 

John gestures at the pile, “Girl porn,” then shows Rodney the cover of the magazine on top of the bundle in his hands, aptly titled ‘Boner Magazine’, “and boy porn.” 

“Jesus,” says Rodney. 

John opens the magazine and rotates it 90 degrees. “Hmmm,” he says, and he spins the magazine around so that Rodney can see the fake tanned, muscle-bound model posing over a two-page centrefold, his erection standing tall and proud. “God, do I feel inadequate.” 

“Don't be ridiculous,” says Rodney. 

“He’s literally twice the man I am!” John’s eyes widen after he speaks, and Rodney knows he’s trying to picture it, Rodney on his hands and knees, the model kneeling behind him, pressing in with his 14 inch- Christ. He has to nip that in the bud immediately. 

“And what exactly do you think I would be able to do with all that, huh? I’m a tight-assed son-of-a-bitch at the best of times. I mean it’d be a total waste of...of...a good seven of those inches.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Not to mention his girth. That’s something like an hour of prep, and really, who's got time for that?” 

“So, you...” begins John. 

“I have no complaints,” says Rodney. “None.” 

John grins, and despite the fact that his hair is plastered to his head with sweat, his boyish charm shines through. He drops the rest of the magazines on the pile on his knees. “So, what else is in there?” 

“Uh...” Rodney pulls out things one of a time and sets them down on the bedside table. The first is a half-empty bottle of Talisker (“Oh, nice one, buddy!”); then four sharing sized bars of chocolate from various countries; a twin-pack of reinforced, heavy-duty bootlaces; three bars of coconut-scented soap (definitely not standard issue); a sharpened ka-bar plus sheath with the words _Semper Fi_ scratched onto the blade; an opened but barely used jumbo box of condoms (the premium, extra thin type, not the generic ones that the infirmary hands out that makes you feel like you’re wearing a rubber glove on your dick); an assorted bag of Taco Bell hot sauce packets; three novelty, cherubic Christmas baubles of increasing vulgarity; a Sudoku book, half-finished; a tube of SPF 30 strawberry flavoured lip balm; a brand-new pair of Marino wool socks; two tubs of medicated foot powder; thirteen ballpoint pens of various colours; five spiral-bound pads of lined paper, worth their weight in gold; and about a hundred and fifty loose sachets of MRE coffee. 

Rodney drops the box on the floor and sits down in its place on the foot of the bed. “I don’t get it,” he says. 

“It’s from the Marines,” says John. 

“Why would they give me all this stuff?” 

Rodney starts when a voice sounds behind him. “Well, it might have something to do with you rushing into a burning room and rescuing their CO.” Major Lorne steps into John’s cubicle and nods at John. “Sir.” 

“Major, what have you got for me?” says John. 

Lorne hands over a tablet and points to something on the screen. “The bomb squad emergency response time was fifteen seconds quicker than the last drill, and all lab personnel made it to their evacuation point within the allotted time.” 

“Good, that’s good.” 

Lorne picks up the bootlaces and smiles. “Chuck isolated the security feed of the time in question. The box was brought to the labs by Sergeant Bale. I’ve already had a word with him about leaving suspicious packages in public places, and-” Lorne swaps the laces for the Christmas baubles and laughs. “These are from Sergeant Hansen, I believe.” 

“Well, you can give them back to him,” says Rodney. John coughs a warning. “Uh...with my thanks,” amends Rodney. 

Lorne smirks but pockets the baubles. “I will, Doc.” 

“And the porn,” says Rodney. He hands the sticky bundle over to Lorne. “I assume there’s a communal stash somewhere that you can leave these?” 

“Uh...” says Lorne, his eyes on wide and fixed on the cover of Boner Magazine. “I’ll, uh...I’ll figure something out.” Lorne stuffs the magazines into his uniform jacket and zips it up tight. “Is there anything else you need, sir?” he asks John. 

“Nothing right now,” says John. 

Lorne turns to Rodney. “Doc?” 

“Uh, no. Thanks. I’ll just...could you pass on my thanks to the men?” asks Rodney. “And, uh, women?” He adds, eyeing up the coconut soap. 

“I will.” 

“Oh,” says Rodney, reaching for the ka-bar. “You could also find the owner of this and return it to them.” 

“I think you should keep that, Doc,” says Lorne. 

“But-” 

“Do you have one of your own?” 

“No.” 

“Stick it in your boot when you go off-world. In case of emergencies.” 

Rodney looks down at the blade in his hands and contemplates what kind of emergencies might end with him stabbing someone. If nothing else it would be good in a pinch to lever open panels or open his MREs. “Right, fine then.” 

Lorne slips out of the cubicle, drawing the curtain shut behind him. 

“It’s not an insult, Rodney,” says John. “They’re just making sure you’re as protected as you can be.” 

“If they spent more time protecting their commanding officer, that would be good enough for me.” 

“C’mon, buddy. No one could have known there was a bomb in the gym.” 

“And that’s something else I don’t get,” says Rodney, dropping the gifts back into the box. “Why the gym? Why not the armoury or the control room? What were they hoping to achieve?” 

John leans back into his pillows and winces. “Probably the only place they could do it undetected. The armoury has a 24/7 guard and the control room is never empty.” 

“I suppose you’re right. Next time we’ll have to be more careful.” 

John’s eyes narrow. “There won’t be a next time. I’m putting the Genii on the no-contact list.” 

“But Radim said-” 

“Fuck what Radim said,” snaps John. 

Rodney looks John over, takes in his clenched jaw and shaking hands. “I’ll get Carson to give you some more pain relief.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Like hell you are.” Rodney stands and kisses John on the forehead. “You don’t have to be so damn stoic all the time.” 

“I can handle it.” 

“Mmmm hmmm. But you don’t have to. Want me to leave you some chocolate?” 

John shrugs like it’s no big deal either way. “I wouldn’t say no,” he says, but Rodney hears the “please” anyway. He fishes out the swiss and drops it into John’s lap, then grabs the box and heads out, promising to come back bright and early in the morning with breakfast. 

Carson isn’t available, but when Rodney asks her, Marie promises to make John more comfortable. By the time Rodney turns around at the door to look back one last time, John’s fast asleep, his head tilted back on the pillows and his mouth wide open. He smiles, and heads back to the labs. Some of the contents of the box he’ll pass on to his minions, but the coffee will find a home in the bottom drawer of his desk for emergencies. 


End file.
